Chapter Text
The day Steve’s head almost combusted was a summer day, and they were riding the last echoes of a heat wave, but it wasn’t the sun nor the warm weather at fault. There was even a light breeze, cooling them in their clothes and leaving them all relaxed in the woods.
It had been two years since they defeated Vecna, and the long time without paranormal shenanigans had been a relief. Two glorious years of living their lives in peace and friend fights for the kids, Steve, Eddie and Robin. The three of them stayed in Hawkins, annoying each other at work and at home, goofing around with the children who weren't children anymore, although Steve clung to whatever remains of childhood they still showed from time to time.
They had prepared a picnic for Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle’s second day at Hawkins, since the kids completely took over the first one in the new Byers house. Nancy and Jonathan were out of college for the holidays, and Argyle was visiting and hiding from the excruciating Californian summer, or so he said. He just wanted to hang out with Jonathan, who was studying Photography at the closest community college, while he remained in Cali delivering delicious pies.
They had eaten some and drank a lot more, and some of them were enjoying a smoke or a joint and talking about music.
“I can’t believe college didn’t improve your taste”, grunts Eddie, mindlessly playing with his guitar’s chords, a joint hanging from his lips. He wears his hair up every day of summer, unlike Argyle’s mane hanging to his waist, but a few loose locks fall messily around his face.
Nancy throws a tight-lipped smile his way. They’re both really flushed from the heat, being the palest of the group.
“Says the man who only listens to one type of music”, retorts Robin with a snort.
“Yeah, my dude, you need to open your mind”, contributes Argyle.
“I am open to anything”, answers Eddie suggestively and a wink.
“Let’s not… let’s not encourage him to open up his mind more, shall we?”, warns Nancy. Beside her, Jonathan stiffles a laugh.
“You wound me Wheeler… My thirst for…”, he lets that hang for a moment, “…knowledge won’t be quenched”.
They are quiet for a couple of minutes, only the sounds of cicadas and Eddie’s strumming filling the air.
“No, but Robin’s right, man”, says Steve, breaking the peaceful moment. “I can’t believe we’re always taking this shit from you, you only ever play one thing”.
He smooths his nape with a hand, the only damp part of his hair, as the top of his head continues to defy gravity and temperatures alike. He’s also flushed, but his skin is already tanned, which brings out his moles all over his body. He’s more muscular than last year and his summer clothes are a little tight on him.
Eddie takes the guitar hand to his chest.
“Oh, Steve, you’re out for blood”, he says, dramatically. “I will have you know I appreciate all kinds of good music, all genres and artists. My taste is boundless, dude, as long as there’s quality. It’s not my fault metal is the ultimate musical art form”.
A series of groans and eye rolls follow that.
“Oh, yeah? Play it”, dares Steve. “C’mon, play something that isn’t metal”.
Eddie’s eyes are burning more than his joint now. Without a word, he puts it out, grabs his guitar with purpose and starts to play, looking down with a smile, as if it was a private joke of his.
And then, suddenly, he starts to sing.
Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah
Some call me the gangster of love
Some people call me Maurice
'Cause I speak of the ‘pompatus’ of love
Robin snorts by Steve’s side, but she sits up straight to better listen to him. Argyle starts moving his head along, his curtain of hair moving along with it.
People talk about me baby
Say I'm doin' you wrong, doin' you wrong
Well, don't you worry, baby, don't worry
'Cause I'm right here, right here, right here, right here at home
Jonathan has also leant his head forward to listen, and even Nancy is paying attention now. Eddie’s smile widens.
'Cause I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun
Eddie throws back his head and closes his eyes, letting the flecks of sunlight flickering through the leaves above fall on his face and neck, and Steve boils.
He can’t look away, can’t move, can’t breath. Can’t miss all those rings, bracelets, tattoos and pendants hanging from Munson’s neck.
I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight toker
I sure don't want to hurt no one
I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
Eddie’s eyes narrow when he says that word, and Steve still hasn’t breathed or blinked. His eyes, like a hawk’s, drink on every single detail, from Eddie’s smile to his locks caressing his face, to his very male Adam’s Apple bobbing with the singing, to the way his very male muscles move when he plays, to his very male hands…
I play my music in the sun
I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight toker
I get my lovin' on the run
Eddie’s eyes lock on Steve’s, his cheeky grin getting even wider. Steve’s cheeks, eyes, head and entire being burn.
You're the cutest thing that I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Wanna shake your tree
Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time
Ooh baby, I'll sure show you a good time
Steve’s feels lightheaded, like he’s floating. He doesn’t even feel hot anymore, he doesn’t feel the ground beneath his body or Robin’s weight against his own. He still doesn’t feel air in his lungs either.
Eddie finishes the song with the chorus again, and the others clap and cheer.
“My dude, that was some cool stuff. You have a really nice voice”, says Argyle, with a big grin and a pat on his shoulder.
“I really didn’t know you could do that!”, exclaims Nancy, genuinely surprised. “I mean, I knew you were good, I heard you play in the Upside Down, but I didn’t know you could play songs like that, like this”, she adds, for once at a loss for words to describe what she means.
“That was pretty good, man”, agrees Jonathan, impressed. He’s been wanting to play guitar for a while now, and decides to learn for good now, after seeing his girlfriend so wowed.
Only Robin notices Steve, and worriedly elbows him.
“Hey. You ok?”, she mutters, her eyes looking his face over. “You don’t look well, dingus”.
Steve doesn’t feel well at all. His heartbeat has increased like there is a demogorgon on sight, his head and throat throb too, he suddenly feels hot and sweaty all over. And his breathing sounds wild.
“Hey. Steve. Steve?”, she insists, increasingly alarmed. “Oh god, please, don’t have a heatstroke, I hear you can die from those and you can’t leave me alone at Family Video, please don’t die, you gotta breath, it’s only the sun”, Robin yells, wildly waving her hands around. “Guys? I think something’s wrong with Steve”, she implores the rest of the group to help.
Between Argyle and Eddie, the biggest after Steve, they carry Steve to his car; Nancy takes the wheel. They all pile up in the other cars and drive behind her to the hospital.
A couple of hours later, after a short trip to get medical help, Steve is on his bed in underwear. It wasn’t the boys who undressed him: Eddie didn’t lift his gaze from his guitar, pretending they weren’t talking to him; Jonathan almost had a seizure at the thought of undressing Steve; and Argyle said he’d do it, no problem, but the others thought that might weird Steve out, since he didn’t know him that well. It fell to Robin, who couldn’t care less about the view, and Nancy, after saying ‘I already saw that and more’. Her boyfriend didn’t even protest.
But Steve was alone now, after reassuring everyone that he tended to suffer from heatstrokes now and then and he was well now.
It was a lie. He didn’t usually get them. And he most definitely wasn’t feeling well now.
In the dark of his bedroom, feeling cooler in the night breeze, he comes to some realisations:
He got a fucking fever from watching Eddie fucking Munson play guitar and sing.
He stopped breathing for over a minute watching Eddie freakin Munson’s hands over that guitar and his stupid eyes piercing him.
His limbs are tingling now even just remembering stupid Eddie Munson grinning at him.
He covers his face with both hands and runs them up into his hair.
“Okay… Okay”, he tells himself.
So, what is he feeling exactly?
Want.
Unbridled schorching desire.
He knows desire. He can work with desire.
He closes his eyes, takes himself in his hand and pictures Eddie like he has pictured so many girls in the past. He doesn’t stop himself, he doesn’t feel any shame. He knows desire, and desire can’t be redirected when it’s settled on something.
His breath quickens, his pace too. Eddie, Eddie’s face, Eddie’s hair, Eddie’s grin, Eddie’s neck.
Eddie’s laugh.
Eddie’s hands.
Eddie’s eyes closing halfway. And I'm a sinner…
Steve comes undone, with a long-winded moan that exposes his neck as he throws his head back into the pillow.
As his breath and his heart slow, momentarily satisfied, he comes to accept a few things:
He wants Eddie Munson with a unbounded passion, the likes he hasn’t felt for a while.
He will get Eddie Munson one way or another, and the way he's starting to see is gonna take time. And help.
His sleep is deep and restful, and his dreams full of music, and hands, and grins.